


Hey Jealousy

by Whreflections



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Nearly Human Castiel, Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-02
Updated: 2014-04-02
Packaged: 2018-01-17 22:43:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1405255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whreflections/pseuds/Whreflections
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the apocalypse, everyone sits back to let things settle for awhile. The Winchesters are trying to take a breather after barely managing to avoid becoming meatsuits, Ellen’s making plans for a new Roadhouse in South Dakota, and Castiel is becoming more human every day. With all the new family around and the time to spend doing things other than worrying about the end of the world, Cas isn’t exactly perching on Dean’s shoulder anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hey Jealousy

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for...wow I can't even remember, some sort of Dean/Cas fic trade over at lj back in 2010. The prompt was this-
> 
> I'd love to see a fic with Dean coming to terms with the fact he's not the [sole] center of Castiel's universe anymore. That is, Dean dealing with the fact that Castiel has another best friend in Bobby or Rufus. Bonus points if we go AU and Dean's "rival" is Jo.

Once the apocalypse was over, Dean finally had the luxury of really hating mornings. He’d hated them as far back as he could remember, but he also couldn’t remember a time he’d  _really_  been allowed to. As a kid there was school, and if he didn’t have school there was usually training and that was even worse, being hauled out of bed at the ass crack of dawn to go ‘hone their skills’. After that there was hunting, real work, and there wasn’t much chance to sleep in there; hardly ever. There were the jobs to work on and then there was Sam and his coffee and the annoying clicking noise the computer keyboard made while he typed and sunlight through cheap motel blinds and…yeah. Suffice it to say, he’d never had to opportunity to sleep as long as he wanted without consequences, so now that everything had calmed down and they’d decided to take some time off, he’d thought he could appreciate it. At least, that had  _seemed_  like a logical idea, and nothing was really stopping him, technically. Just himself.   
  
  
He rolled over, groaning in frustration, one arm thrown over his eyes. This was fucking ridiculous. It had to be barely past 9, and here he was awake just because Cas wasn’t in bed with him anymore. He’d slept alone for years, and no matter how much he’d gotten used to having Cas in his bed he probably could have adjusted to his absence, except for the fact that he knew  _why_  he was absent.   
  
  
Jo was one of those crazies, like Sam and the people that rambled on morning talk radio. She was all the way awake by at least 7 every day, and since Cas was apparently still having some trouble adjusting to sleep, that’d been a perfect chance for them to start seeing a lot of each other while they were here at Bobby’s. Before, on the road, Cas had stayed in bed with him, watching over him if he couldn’t sleep, at most going to talk quietly with Sam.   
  
  
Now there was Jo, and yesterday he’d staggered downstairs to find them in the kitchen, and Cas had been smiling while Jo talked him through making her mom’s hashbrown casserole. He couldn’t help it, he’d been frustrated, and thinking about it now was enough to make him realize he wasn’t going to be getting back to sleep any time soon.   
  
  
Dean rolled out of bed, cursing under his breath when he caught the display on the clock. Freakin’ 8:15. Really? Seriously?  _No one_  should be up that early, especially not now that the world wasn’t ending and everything was gonna be ok. After that,  _everyone_  was entitled to a little well deserved rest.   
  
  
He staggered downstairs only a little uncoordinated, still in pajama pants and a white t-shirt. He could hear Ellen laughing, and when he got downstairs he could see that Jo had set up a dart board in the living room. There was a dart in the center that had been split down the middle by a second, and Ellen and Jo were both doubled over with laughter while Cas looked on quizzically, clearly confused. Sam sat in the corner drinking coffee, smirking at Cas’ back over his book.   
  
  
Dean leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest. “What’d I miss?” His voice was rough with sleep and he cleared his throat, tried to stand a little straighter. “You throwing a good game, Cas?”   
  
  
“Too good. Guy’s gotta learn to play without  _cheating_.” Even saying it, Ellen was smiling.   
  
  
Castiel let the last dart slide from his fingers, resting on one of the few square inches of space on the coffee table. “I think that will take some time to learn. It’s still too easy to make it hit the bullseye every time.”   
  
  
“Obviously.” Jo walked across the room, yanked the two halves of the dart away and pulled the one that had split it from the center. “Thing is, I can do  _almost_  the same thing, but I learned to do it just by practice. That’s what you’ve gotta figure out, how to do it because  _you_  can, not because you can’t miss.”   
  
  
“Why does this sound like the sick reverse of some kids book? The little engine that  _couldn’t_?” Dean pushed off of the doorframe, eyes focused on the coffeepot he could already see over on the counter. “I need some coffee.”   
  
  
He was about halfway through the cup, resolutely staring out the kitchen window and only partially sulking when he felt Cas’ arms wrap around his waist. “Good morning, Dean.”   
  
  
  
His voice was soft and rough, and Dean felt a little of the tension ease out of his shoulders as he turned just enough to run his fingers through Cas’ hair before pulling him in for a kiss. “Mornin’, Cas.”   
  
  
“Jo is convinced I need to know how to hustle something, for the road.”   
  
  
An angel hustling darts…yeah, that was gonna be a sight. Dean snorted a little before he took another deep drink of coffee, felt his eyes starting to open more willingly. “Well, can’t say it wouldn’t be useful. We can use all the help we can get.”   
  
  
Bobby wheeled in from the backyard then, screen door banging shut behind him. “Hey, Dean!”   
  
  
Dean gently pulled Cas’ arm away from his waist, heading towards Bobby’s voice. “Yeah?”   
  
  
“Here.” Bobby shoved a set of keys into his hand, clearly pleased with something. “Guy just sold me a mostly working ’64 Mustang. I told him I had a guy that could make it perfect.”   
  
  
“Well, maybe not  _perfect_ …I mean, I can’t make it a Chevy.” He didn’t have anything against Fords, really, and Mustangs were gorgeous cars, but he couldn’t resist the dig. He was a Chevy man, and he only really had eyes for his baby. Still, it’d be a fun project, and it’d get him out of the house for awhile. “I’ll go ahead and get started soon as I get dressed.”   
  
  
“Do you want me to-“  
  
  
“I got it, Cas, thanks.” Clearly, he wasn’t gonna be short any entertainment if he stayed inside. Besides, he’d never shown any interest in learning how to fix the Impala and it wasn’t like he hadn’t been following Dean around for the past few months anyway. If he needed space, then Dean could give him plenty of it.   
  
  
*******  
  
  
“I can’t believe you’re actually sulking over this.”   
  
  
Under the car Dean gritted his teeth, hand squeezing unnecessarily hard as he tightened a bolt. “Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, Sam.”   
  
  
Sam laughed, and Dean saw his boots come closer as he moved to lean against the body of the Mustang. “Look, Dean, this is good for him. It’s healthy, normal behavior… _human_  behavior.”   
  
  
“I am seriously not having this conversation with you.” He let a hint of danger seep into his words, a little bit of the ‘I’m your big brother and you’ll shut up or I’ll make you’. Of course, Sam knew that was usually an empty threat.   
  
  
“Dean, it's not a crime for him to have friends."   
  
  
Well, there went his resolve to ignore Sam until he shut up about it. Dean anchored his hands on the other side of the car and pushed the sled out quick, using his feet to stop it once he was out from under the car. "I'm not a  _girl_ , Sam, I never said he couldn't have friends. But there's a difference in having friends and..." And  _this_. This was different, because for the past two weeks Cas spent at least part of every day hanging out with Jo, usually a pretty big part of it, and he was always out of bed and up early to go do it. That would've gotten under his skin enough on its own, but the other day Jo had said something about taking him shopping and helping him find some clothes that weren't so formal and... _no_. Just no. If anyone was gonna help Cas change his style, it'd be him.   
  
  
"It's what, Dean? What's the difference?" Sam's voice had softened, less amusement and more honest concern. "Look, I don't see that this is anything for you to be worried about but if there's something I don't know, then-"  
  
  
"It's just too much, ok? I mean, on the road, everything was fine, but then here-"  
  
  
"He's not always two steps behind you?"   
  
  
"What? No, of course that's not it." He stood up, went into the garage and got his beer from the shelf to take a long drink. It was warm from the afternoon sun, but he was hot and thirsty and needed something to keep him from looking at Sam, so it worked.   
  
  
"Isn't it? They're not messing around, Dean, they’re not even flirting, they’re just  _friends_ , and you’re taking it like she’s stealing him or killing you dog or-“  
  
  
“Look, Sam, I’m fine with it, ok? Cas can do whatever he wants; I’m not gonna force him to be around me.” He  _wasn’t_ , really, and that was part of what stung, somewhere at the back of his mind where he tried not to think about it. Until now, outside of Sam he was really all Cas had had. His relationship with Sam had turned pretty brotherly, which Dean was happy with, and his relationship with Dean had started to turn into the only  _real_  long term relationship Dean had ever had a few months back. It was amazing, and now he was wondering just how stupid he’d been to believe he might actually get to keep it. Now that things were slipping back to normal, if Cas was sticking around…   
  
  
Well, there was a whole world of people out there. And all of them, even the other hunters, they were all more normal and well adjusted and suited for shit like this than Dean. It’d be better for Cas in the long run, really.   
  
  
Sam shook his head, pushed off of the car and moved to head back inside. “If you don’t wanna tell me what you’re thinkin’, that’s fine. But I think you should tell Castiel, because whatever it is you’ve got in your head, Dean, I can guarantee you it’s nothing he’d be happy to know you’re thinking.”   
  
  
Dean finished off his beer, reached over and turned up Creedence on the radio and pushed his mind back onto considering what repair he needed to think about for the car next.   
  
  
*******  
  
  
He didn’t go back inside until almost sundown, and when he came in Jo was making sandwiches on the counter. Bobby and Ellen were talking business, plans for her new Roadhouse spread out across the desk in the library, and Sam and Cas were in the kitchen, watching baseball on an ancient tiny TV. Mariners vs. Yankees, and Sam was in the process of explaining a grand slam, which is what it would take for the Mariners to pull the game off at that point.   
  
  
“That actually happens, Sammy, and I’ll pay you $20.”   
  
  
Sam settled back in his chair, arm tossed over the back and giving Dean the ‘oh please’ eyes. “Dean. You  _hate_  the Yankees.”   
  
  
Dean shrugged, went over to the fridge and popped open a beer, guzzling at it thirstily for a minute before he answered. “Course I hate the Yankees, but I’m not  _blind_. Mariners are done for.” He sidled up next to Jo at the counter, leaned in to see just what she was doing. “What you got there?”   
  
  
“Pastrami and swiss, and back up, you’re crowding me.”   
  
  
He pulled back, leaned backwards against the counter by her elbow, facing toward her and away from the others. “Well aren’t you turnin’ into a housewife. Makin’ dinner and everything.”   
  
  
The glare she gave him then could’ve frozen pretty much anyone else, and he didn’t flinch when she pointed at him with the knife. “Seriously?  _Seriously_? You know, if you’re gonna be a bitch about this, just come out and say you don’t want me talking to your boyfriend.” To be so annoyed she actually said it pretty quiet, but all the same it was all Dean could do to not flinch and look toward Sam and Cas to see if they’d heard.   
  
  
“Sweetheart, I’m not anybody’s bitch, and I never said anything about talking to him, just-“  
  
  
“Just what, don’t hang out with him? Figured after the apocalypse it’d be awhile before you got cabin fever, but if you want to be your own again why don’t you just-“  
  
  
“Jo…” This was ridiculous. Mad or not, she was still family, really, and he didn’t want to fight. “Look, just-“  
  
  
She cut him off, voice low as she gathered everything up. “No, why don’t we try this? Why don’t you stop acting like you’re four and he’s the shiny new toy you wanna write your name on? He’s a human being, Dean, he’s not a puppy.”   
  
  
“Technically he’s-“  
  
  
“Doesn’t look like he’s gonna stay that way.” She was too right, and they both hesitated after she said it. He’d wanted to keep Cas, he’d wanted it more selfishly than he’d ever wanted anything, but he was pretty sure he wouldn’t have wanted it at the cost Cas’ immortality, but it looked like that was the way things were heading. Her voice lowered just a little and she leaned in to talk to him, eyes serious. “Dean, I swear, I don’t want him. Not like that. I just think he needs a friend. And it wouldn’t hurt me to have another one, either.”   
  
  
*******  
  
  
“Dean?”   
  
  
Dean turned around, wiping his hands off quick on the rag as he raised up from under the hood. “Cas, hey.”   
  
  
Cas still had only the fundamentals of personal space laid down, and he stepped in far too close, bodies almost brushing. Dean reached up to straighten the collar of his trench coat, smoothing the shoulders and accidentally leaving a smudge of oil on the right one. They really did need to get him some new clothes. Just when he was ready to speak, Cas surprised him.   
  
  
“Dean, if you wanted to go back on the road with Sam, I would understand.”   
  
  
Dean blinked, momentarily stunned into silence. It hit him then, and he stepped back until his legs hit the bumper of the Mustang and he wished he could crawl in there with the engine. “You want to stay at the new Roadhouse with Ellen and Jo, huh?” Dean swallowed, his throat tight as he tried to laugh, pulling the rag up into his hands again to keep them busy. “I mean, I get it, it’s-“  
  
  
“No.” There was honest confusion there, and Dean looked up, met soft blue eyes that clearly just didn’t understand. “Aren’t you bored here?”   
  
  
Dean shrugged, eyes back down to rub at a stubborn spot of grease behind one of his left knuckles. “Not really, no. I mean, I woulda been a few years ago, but I’m tired, you know? I’m not sayin’ I don’t ever wanna hunt again because I do, I’m just sayin’ that I wouldn’t say no to a real vacation, a few months off to just work on some cars and help Ellen get the Roadhouse started. You know, be civilians for a little bit, just long enough to see what it’s like.” Just long enough to remember how to breathe without the end of the world hanging over them, and maybe long enough to forget a little bit of hell.   
  
  
“Then what…” Cas trailed off, forehead knit in confusion.   
  
  
No matter what he’d built up in his head, he felt just little bit less sure of himself actually  _talking_  to Cas about this. Particularly considering Cas had stepped in close again, enough that he could feel his breath on his skin. He swallowed, leaned back with one hand on the edge of the car, metal biting into his palm.   
  
  
“I just thought…I mean, it was great, you know, but it looks like you’re gonna be human now and the apocalypse is over, I definitely don’t need watching over anymore and-“  
  
  
Cas cocked his head, and Dean could feel something in him crack over the shock in his eyes, a darker blue than he’d seen them in a long time. “What are you saying? Are you…do you not want-“  
  
  
He couldn’t even bear to let him finish the sentence. “No! God, no, that’s not…I mean… _Christ_.” He rubbed a dirty hand over his face, stepped back and paced a few steps before he could gather his jittery nerves and jumbled thoughts into something like control. “Look, all I’m sayin’ is that if this thing with you and Jo…if it turns into something, I understand and we’re…we’re ok.” If ‘ok’ meant fucking broken, yeah, he’d be perfectly fine with it.   
  
  
Castiel was quiet, and Dean squinted up into the glow of the streetlights over the junkyard, watched the moths buzz against the closest cover. When he looked back at Cas, Cas was smiling. Well, that was unexpected.   
  
  
“You’re jealous.”   
  
  
More than he could put into words. He shrugged, rubbed absently at back of his neck. “No, I’m just sayin’-“   
  
  
“She’s a good friend, Dean. I haven’t had the opportunity to have many of those. And most of the ones that I had are either dead or no longer speaking to me so…” He held his hands up, a gesture of something like defeat and Dean felt a little bit like an ass.   
  
  
“Cas, I’m-“  
  
  
Cas closed the distance between them and immediately wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist, palms pressed against his back. “From what I hear, she wanted you for years. Doesn’t that mean  _I_  should be the worried one?” Dean opened his mouth to protest, but Cas cut him off. “I’m sorry.”   
  
  
Yeah. Now he  _definitely_  felt like an ass. He let out a sharp breath, looked down and tried to hide at least some of how stupid he felt. “It’s fine, Cas.” Sometimes, he wondered if Cas really had managed to piece him  _all_  back together after hell. Before, he’d needed Sam like this, yeah, but he’d been able to keep that that  _inside_. Now he needed them both, and he wasn’t doing such a good job of keeping it to himself anymore. It sucked. He pasted on a smirk, tried to gather up his pride. “I mean, it’s not like I was worried. I think she’s more into the bad boys.”   
  
  
Cas’ hand came up to cradle his head, turned it carefully to claim his lips in a kiss that was slow and deliberate, and when they pulled apart Cas’ thumb stroked possessively against the nape of his neck.   
  
  
“I’m not going to get tired of you, Dean. Not ever.”   
  
  
*******  
  
  
 _3 months later_  
  
  
Dean woke up to the sound of the Mustang's revving engine, and even half asleep he hoped like hell it was Bobby tinkering with it and not Sam. No matter how many years he spent around people that fixed cars, Sam never seemed to be able to actually retain any of the information they tried to pass along, a fact that made no sense whatsoever considering Sam remembered every obscure bit of lore he'd ever learned.   
  
  
Dean was draped over Cas, head pillowed awkwardly against his shoulder, and he rolled his neck, felt the crack and the protest of stiff muscles. The clock on the nightstand said 8:45, and here Cas was, fast asleep next to him. Dean smiled, ran his fingers through the angel's already tousled hair and leaned in to kiss him, soft and quick and hopefully not enough to wake him.   
  
  
When Cas' eyes opened, he wasn't exactly disappointed. He smiled, his fingers tightening in Cas' hair. "Hey."   
  
  
Castiel's eyes narrowed, his head tilting back a little. "I’ve been dreaming."   
  
  
"Really? That's great! I wouldn't've thought angels-"  
  
  
"We don't."   
  
  
Dean hesitated, for a minute sure Cas was going to be upset by that fact, but he started right back up like he'd said nothing of all that much importance.   
  
  
"It’s what makes sleeping so difficult, because it feels so foreign and…” His eyes drifted shut, and he licked his lips a little nervously. “Last night, we were back in Las Vegas, in the casino where Lucifer had come for Crowley." It had been one of the last battles of the apocalypse, and though they'd hardly been able to believe they were willing to help protect a demon after everything that had gone down with Ruby, they'd teamed up with Crowley one more time. Lucifer had slipped away before they could put any real pressure on him though, and they didn't see him again until Salinas where Dean drove a flaming sword through his chest.   
  
  
Dean nodded, resting his chin on Cas' chest. "The Bellagio, yeah. What happened?"   
  
  
"You were playing poker, with Lucifer. He had split your soul up and was using the pieces as chips." Cas pulled him closer, grip strong as he breathed him in. "I didn't like it."   
  
  
Dean chuckled, pressed a kiss to Cas' throat over his pulse. "Well, we don't always like our dreams, Cas. They suck a lot of times, actually. But there's some really awesome ones sometimes too, so it evens out." Cas hand came up to cup his cheek, and Dean pulled himself up a little to meet him in a kiss, all slow and warm and lazy. He rested his forehead against Castiel's when they pulled apart, felt his breath just a little unsteady against his lips. He could definitely get used to this. "You wanna go make some breakfast?"   
  
  
Cas shook his head, hands sliding down to rub Dean's back over his t-shirt. "No, I'm fine." His left hand lingered on Dean's shoulder, mirroring the mark he’d branded him with on his other shoulder. "You're tired. Why don't you go back to sleep?"   
  
  
Yeah, that sounded like a great idea. 


End file.
